Hands
by Tanya Reed
Summary: The title pretty much says it all. Very short one shot about hands


Hands

by Tanya Reed

Here is another one of my very short one shots. I hope you're not getting too tired of them.

Disclaimer: I still don't own Relic Hunter.

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The two of them sat scrunched together in the back of the truck. It was not the first time they had made such an escape, but being chased still gave Sydney a wicked thrill and made the adrenaline pound wildly through her veins. Above her, the wind whistled from their passage. Beneath her, the truck bounced and gravel crunched as it roared and bucked through the ruts on the ill kept dirt road.

Nigel was slightly pale, and his hair stuck up from his forehead in disarray. With his body pressed so close to hers, she could smell his shampoo and the faint scent of his aftershave. His body was warm and fit against hers with the ease of familiarity. She could feel his panting breaths as he tried to get his wildly beating heart under control.

"I think we lost them," she said cheerily.

"I hope so. Who knew someone that large could run so fast?"

Sydney chuckled and hit him lightly with her elbow. "Not me."

Nigel gave a slight "oomph" and looked up at her through his bangs. His hazel eyes were twinkling, which was unusual for him in this kind of situation. Sydney made a face at him and was rewarded as he broke into a slight grin. Unable to fight the force of Nigel's smile, she grinned back. Despite almost getting caught by a trap, following a false lead, and getting chased by gun wielding rival relic hunters, it was turning into a good day. After all, Piedro had showed up at the last second with his truck.

Still grinning, Nigel shifted positions, lightly brushing Sydney's forearm with his hand. His palm was as warm as the rest of him and sent an unexpected tingle over her skin. Following impulse, she moved her arm too, sliding it against Nigel's until her palm rested against his and their fingers tangled together.

Nigel's eyes widened, but he made no move to pull his hand away. Instead, he gently squeezed hers. She sighed and settled more comfortably against him, allowing herself to enjoy the feel of his hand.

She liked Nigel's hands. They were small for a man's, about the same size as her own, with delicate and graceful fingers. His nails were slightly ragged and, as she traced her thumb over his skin, she could feel the scratches he'd received in their flight through the woods to reach Piedro. She winced slightly and wondered if they stung.

Her hand continued its exploration of his, reveling in both the roughness and the smoothness it found there. Nigel's hands were very much like Nigel himself. Once they had been soft and smooth, the hands of a scholar. His nails had been perfect and even, and his touches had been tentative and unsure.

His hands were still gentle, but they were also firm when they needed to be. New confidence sometimes made them boldly reach for something that they would have flinched from before. A couple of scars marred their white skin, and the palms and fingers were almost as rough and callused as hers. They weren't as pretty as they once were, but to Sydney they felt much more attractive—more real. These were hands that could delicately piece together an ancient puzzle; they were also hands that could react quickly to save a friend's life. She had seen them do both. The changes she felt justified the faith in them born the moment she met Nigel. They had no idea then of their potential, just as the naïve teaching assistant they belonged to had no idea of his own worth. Both had blossomed into something Sydney was extremely proud of.

Nigel's own thumb moved to return Sydney's caresses, and he shifted positions once more. This time, he let his head drift to her shoulder. As she listened to his deep, even breathing, she knew he was near sleep. A smile came to her face, this one softer and more tender than the grin he had drawn from her earlier. Nigel often took naps in the middle of hunts to help him cope with the continuous excitement. Almost always, these naps saw him curled up against Sydney's shoulder. She had come to fondly look forward to these quiet times, though she'd never tell him.

With the hand not holding his, she reached over and brushed hair from his forehead.

"Just a little nap, Syd," he mumbled.

"It's all right, Nigel," she whispered back.

She studied him closely, finding it hard to believe that he was the same man who had come into her classroom, fresh-faced and innocent, two years before. Since then, he had grown into a man she could depend upon. A man she could trust. She trusted his mind and his heart and his loyalty. She trusted his bravery and his friendship and his skill. Most of all, she thought as she rested her cheek against his soft hair, she trusted his hands.

The End


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